Chapter 6 “Royal Typewriter”
Giles came back today. Oh wait, you don’t know who Giles is, do you? Giles is the man we hired to take photo and video content during our recording session here at Middle Farm Studios. He stands 6ft 7in and runs a 6min mile with ease. I’ve only ran the 3 mile farm course twice, and both times with him. It’s the hardest course I’ve ever ran in my life. Before I get into that though, let me tell you how I became a runner, and why it’s important to me.
My dad was always in fairly good shape, but when I got to around 13 years old, he told himself “If I have any chance of still being able compete against him in basketball when he’s a teenager, I better start training now”. Right there and then he started running. Buying running books, subscribing to running magazines, buying running watches, all of it. He was obsessed. 5k races soon turned to 10k, which soon turned to half marathons, which soon turned to marathons. Hell he even did a triathlon and nearly drowned in the Chesapeake bay. When I turned 15, my dad forced me to run cross country at my High School. I wasn’t exactly thrilled. Actually, I was pretty fucking annoyed. At 15, my hobbies were basketball (poorly), playing guitar (poorly), playing video games (successfully), and, er, doing other things a young teenager does when his parents are at work (successfully). The thought of having to interact with classmates, and spend my Saturdays traveling to races that I would always finish in last, was not appealing. And thats exactly what happened. I finished last every. single. race. ‘Cause I didn’t try. Had no interest. My dad would take off from work early to watch me not try. He wasn’t too happy about that. I don’t blame him. Anyways, that would be the first and only school activity I would ever be eligible for as I continued to fail my classes. Sorry pop. I worked a near full time job all though my senior year of high school, so while he wasn’t exactly thrilled that I was on course to NOT graduating, he saw I wasn’t just sitting around doing nothing.
Anyways, years go by, I’m living on my own, blah blah blah blah blah. He’s still running, and still trying to get me into it. I still have no real interest of doing anything but going to work, coming home, drinking beer, and playing guitar. But he still tells me how great it is. I mean, he REALLY loves the sport. By the time I’m 25, I join my first band, ‘Sky Eats Airplane’. Going from working at Guitar Center, having never played in a serious band before, to suddenly touring the country and playing shows every single night, was pretty nuts. I appreciated the opportunity and experience, but I always kept the mindset of “this could literally end tomorrow”. I was sorta right. Sky Eats eventually fell apart, but as soon as it did, Of Legends was right there behind it, keeping the dream alive. After that, TesseracT was there. The TesseracT situation was a bit different though. I knew that wasn’t going to last long right after my first tour with them. When we agreed to an amicable split, I figured, “hey, I’m sure there’s probably another band right around the corner”. At this point I was 28 and felt too old to just start something new. Plus, I didn’t know the first thing about starting a new band. My buddy Zack and I had ‘Zelliack’, but him and I had no real idea how to bring our bedroom project onto an actual stage. A month after TesseracT and I split, I took a job tour managing a band over in Europe. By the time I got back to the states, I felt lost. I took a job working overnights in a warehouse because I figured I could work on music during the day while working all though the night. I never really minded the hours. 9PM to 6AM. Full time. I could dig it. It’ was supposed to be temporary, but soon the days turned to weeks, turned to months, till I was there for an entire year. Slowly withdrawing from my normal social groups.
When you work the night shift, even on your days off you still keep that schedule. So on days off during the weekday I’d be awake at 3am with nothing to do. Now THATS boring. At first I thought it was kinda nice that I could watch ’The Larry Sanders Show’ uninterrupted, but by the time winter came around I decided I needed to do something other than drink myself to sleep at 11am (Side note, when you’re buying beer at 9am, the person selling you beer has no idea that you just worked a nine hour shift. When you do this three/four times a week, they look at you like you have a serious problem. Hey man, I just want to get a little buzz while Jake and I play Grand Theft Auto, buzz off). There was a gym downstairs in my building, that had a treadmill. “Sure, why not, I’m out of beer, so I need something to do till the store opens up”. I got into full Rocky mode and put on sweats (I’m a dumb-ass) and went downstairs. My first run in close to a decade was by myself, at 3am. I ran a slow mile. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be. Actually, I kind of enjoyed it. “Alright, I’ll try it again tomorrow.”. I did it the next day and went a little further. Honestly, I was hooked by my third run. I decided to run every Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Each time going a little further till I was doing 4 miles regularly. It was still very wintery outside, and I had NO interest in freezing my balls off, but I figured if I could get to 4 miles at a decent pace on the treadmill I’d be good to go by spring. Once spring came around and I started going outside I realized this was something I wanted to do forever. There was a park/trail right next to my house that I had basically been ignoring the previous 7 years. I realized that at 5am, I would be the only person out there. Imagine having your very own park to run in. Thats what it felt like. As the running days turned to weeks, turned to months, I would ask myself, “Why do I run? For my sanity?”. Yes, that was a big part of it. But, always in the back of my mind, I kept telling myself, “If at any chance I’m going to someday get back onstage, I need to be ready. I need to be in shape”. I was turning into my dad. I was running with purpose, with a goal. Once I felt ready enough, I told him I wanted to run together. He was floored. Excited that there was a new father-son activity in his life. He’s passed on all his running knowledge to me. Thank’s pop. Last winter when Periphery were recording their new album, Jake came and stayed with me for two months. He’d been out of exercise for awhile, and told me he wanted to give running a try. I took him to a track right down the road and watched the man take 15 minutes to run 1 mile. There was a look of intense pain on his face. I figured there was no way in hell he was gonna want to do that again. Later on, over a couple of beers, he told me how he couldn’t wait to get back out there to do it again. So I put him through the ringer. We’d be out in the park and I’d say “don’t worry, the next hill is just a little one”, when really we were going over something that even I would struggle with. By the end of his two months, he was able to do 2 ½ miles without stopping. I figured he’d lose interest in it once he went back home, but he didn’t. He kept up with it, and when he came back to visit that summer we would do four and five milers side by side. Proud of you, bud. When Dez contacted me about wanting to start a new band and asked how would I feel about playing shows again, I didn’t hesitate. I felt ready to get back out there, mentally and physically.
Well, I’ve probably bored you enough. But quickly, let me tell you about this fucking farm course I’ve been running at the recording studio. It sucks. Shit, a goddamn marine would complain about this. The first thing that happens is you run straight up a hill for about half a mile. And it’s steep. Remember when Rocky ran up the mountain in Rocky VI? Well…. it’s not that bad. But to me it feels like I’m preparing to fight Ivan Drago. Around mile 2 you start having to suck in air that is 90% cow manure. So now you’re gagging when you’re already out of breath. Mile 2 ½ is down hill. You’d think that’d be easier. NOPE. It’s just at irritating as running UP hill, just not as tiring. Also, the road is AS wide as a single car. If a car needs to pass by, you have to stop running, and sink yourself into the stalk. Nice, just what I wanted. An itchy ass back. Mile 3 is the real “fuck you”. You’re completely exhausted at this point, all you want is a little straight road to run. Not gonna happen. Have fun running your ass up one more hill. Finally once you reach the end, you’re so cold and caked in mud that all you want to do is take a hot shower. Gotta be honest, I don’t think I’m gonna be missing this run too much once I get back to New York City. The first time we went out, it was me, Giles, and Joa. I came in dead last. I didn’t even know Joa fucking ran. Bah, whatever, now I’m droning. Thanks for listening!
I’ll finish this book later
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